I've never had to worry about the mice in Anaheim. It's the bigger critters that got me on the fluff.
I was in Anaheim years ago. I was sitting in my vehicle in a parking lot waiting for my brother to come out of the mo-ped repair shop, and apparently I wasn't in too good a mood and I caught the glance of the wrong guy, a huge ugly hairy hunched over kind of disgruntled dude done wrong getting his case of beer from the liquor store I was parked directly in front of. Well, I was looking at him thinking to myself something naive and judgemental like, "Now that's somebody I will never be like.", or "Look at that loser.", and when my response to his question, "What you lookin' at?", was "Nothing.", he punched me in the face so hard with a massive right hand that broke my nose and split my lip. Then he grabbed my arm to pull me out through the window of my vehicle, probably to snap me neatly in two at the waist while holding me above his head so he could suck down my entrails as they spilled out of my abdominal cavity and into his gaping maw, when luckily my long-sleeve flannel shirt sleeve gave way completely at the shoulder seam, and I escaped out the other door. It was my favorite shirt, but I am alive, so in a way it still is, even though I don't have it anymore.
Be careful who you look at in Anaheim, there be half-ogres in them parts!